


As You Sleep

by S_Rena



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alpha Derek, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But He Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek is a Failwolf, Erica Boyd and Alison do NOT die, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, I don't know Stiles can be an asshole in canon, Jackson and stiles are surprise bros, M/M, Mates, Multi, Not Underage, Post-Season 3A, Potential OCC?, Puppy Piles, Scallisaac? is that a real tag?, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, The Pack Ships It, brand new baddie, he's more i use jokes and sarcasm to hide my pain not i use jokes to cause you pain, it doesn't get that far, it was the lack of swearing, it's very slight, seriously, sterek, the fakest thing about teen wolf wasn't the werewolves or plot development, these are teenagers and young adults they swear a lot, this is my first fic and i don't know how to tag help me, this whole thing is a weird mix of canon and au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Rena/pseuds/S_Rena
Summary: Stiles is fine. Really, he is. If he says it often enough, maybe someday it'll be true.With nightmares, so corporal they feel more like premonitions than anything else, Stiles is struggling just to function. Visions of a human-like beast with puke green eyes and vile intentions haunts not only his sleep but his waking moments as well. If that wasn't enough to stress out an already pretty unstable teenager, the stuff with Derek... well, Stiles had no answer for the Alpha's out of character behavior as of late. Everyone keeps telling him that the danger is gone, that they're finally safe but Stiles knows... he just knows there's something coming. He only hopes he can keep his friends safe.A/N: This is an AU story around the end of season 3a. Derek does NOT lose his alpha mojo saving Cora. Erica and Boyd don't die. Because I think the way they died on the show was such bullshit lol. Also! This is the first story I've written in a long time, and it's been even longer since I've posted anything online. So please, bare with my inconsistent self. THIS IS COMPLETE SELF-INDULGENCE. Don't take it too seriously. I'm sure I'll mess up a bunch before the end of this. Constructive criticism is welcome! Rudeness is not!





	As You Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> WARNING!  
> Okay, so before I begin there is a warning for this chapter! I didn't add a warning to the fic because there is only the threat of non-con and no actual non-consensual sexual acts that take place. IF this changes or someone is still uncomfortable and thinks I should tag it, let me know and I'll do so. If this is potentially triggering for you please don't continue. Your mental health is more important than a college student errant writings. 
> 
> For a more detailed warning, you can take a look at the notes at the bottom. 
> 
> This is not beta'd so every mistake, inaccuracy and issue are my own doing. If you'd like to beta for me, let me know! Also, I've never posted anything on AO3 before. Any writing I ever did was over on fanfiction.net so the format of this chapter might be a bit off until a get the hang of things! I hope you enjoy!

Stiles could lie and say he had no clue how he ended up hogtied on his side in the dirt and helpless down a human-sized gopher hole, but he only believed in deluding himself when it came to emotional turmoil. Not that he was afflicted by that certain ailment all that often. Right. Bad guys just always managed to find him. He was the chink in the armor of the pack, the weak little human who was so easily kidnapped.

“You’re an unusual thing aren’t you, boy? You smell too good to be completely human.” a rough voice laughed, yanking Stiles up by his hair. He knew he should have buzzed his damn head again. The face staring back at him could barely be considered human; with dark sunken in eyes and elongated teeth, stringy greyish brown hair and rancid smelling breathe. The man looked like a half-ass science experiment gone wrong. Like really, really wrong.

“Wish I could say the same about you, pal. Ever heard of a Tic-Tac? Because your breath? Yikes.” 

The hand in Stiles’ hair tightened and a very unpleasant ache began to well in his neck from the rough treatment. Stiles couldn’t control the sharp tang of fear from spiking through him when the man smirked and flashed putrid green eyes at him. They looked like a sick mix of Scott’s Beta eyes and Derek’s. 

“I see it now,” the man laughed, large teeth on display and the wicked green glow of his eyes still intense. “I’ll enjoy breaking you more than I thought. Your Alpha won’t have any use for you when I’m done.”

He yanked Stiles up, forcing him to his knees as he stood. “Such a pretty mouth,” he cooed, rubbing one dirty figure along the deep cupids bow of Stiles’ top lip. Stiles felt his stomach clench uneasily with the overwhelming need to be sick. He understood now what the man had meant about destroying him and hated himself a little for the way his eyes teared up,

“You smell like a virgin, boy,” he said, pulling Stiles’ face unbearably close to his still clothed crotch. Stiles yanked back, using his weight to try to get as far away as possible, but it was useless, the man held tight, yanking the teenager closer to him still. Stiles thought he really would vomit when he felt the hardness brush across his cheek. In the back of his mind, some twisted, hysterical part of him wondered just what a virgin smelt like.

“Please, stop… Stop!” Stiles cried, fighting with all his strength, yanking himself with his shoulders, kicking his useless feet, pushing without gaining any distance. 

Not like this! Not you!

Then the man was gone. The room was gone. Everything was black and he realized his eyes were clenched shut unbearably tight. He peeled back his lids and let out a quiet sob in relief when all he saw around him was the familiar comfort of his bedroom. It was still dark but the room was quiet. He tried to calm down, but even realizing it all was a dream couldn’t slow the racing of his pulse, burning behind his eyes and the icy hot heat in his chest.

*~*~*

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Stiles snapped his eyes away from the newly acquired flat-screen mounted to Derek’s wall. He looked up into hard eyes and expressive eyebrows. So much judgment, so little facial movement.

“What?” Stiles asks the alpha vaguely, turning his head to see what Scott and Allison were doing at the other end of the long couch if only to not have to look at Derek any longer than he had to. Eye-contact was the enemy and he would avoid it at all costs. 

“You smell off, upset. What. Is wrong. With you.” Derek emphasized, glaring down at the teenager.

“I don’t think I actually heard a question in there. That sounded way more like accusations to me. Seriously, man, it’s not like I can control how I smell. Trust me, I would if I could. It’s super inconvenient being around all you wolfy-bastards,” Stiles takes a deep breath, “Like isn’t it my human right to smell however the hell I want? Do I now owe an explanation for every single emotion I emote? I mean-” 

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Forget I asked, just shut the hell up.” And with that Derek walked away, throwing himself gracefully onto his bed in the corner of the loft. Stiles watched him go, a little annoyed with himself that he couldn’t interact with Derek normally at all. 

Stiles swallowed hard and turned his head back to the TV. Deadpool was on, again, his choice of course. It wasn’t like anyone argued over it. No one ever argued with Stiles over anything anymore. Life was getting monotonous without a little bit of danger (he wasn’t complaining, honestly, he wasn’t) but compared to the normal amount of mortal peril on the horizon, going back to everyday high school life was rattling. Stiles couldn’t help thinking that they were teetering on the cusp of something even worse. 

Sickly green eyes reverberated across Stiles’ memory and it was an act of God that he caught himself before he gasped out-loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Derek jerk upright, staring intently in his direction. 

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Your eyebrows were enough, big guy. I got the gist,” Stiles joked halfheartedly, eyes still glued to the TV screen. 

“Stiles?” 

The boy in question jerked his eyes to the right, where he’d completely forgotten Scott and Allison sat. Scott’s brown puppy eyes were conflicted, the arm wrapped around Allison just a tad too tight. Stiles, in his infinite knowledge of useless information, managed to forget that even completely enamored with Allison, Scott still knew him better than anyone else in the world. He knew when something was very, very wrong with him. 

Scott just stared at him and Stiles stared back. There were only so many things that intimidated you anymore once you’ve endured the kinds of things their little pseudo-pack has. Scott wasn’t one of them, unless you were a bad guy of course. Scott had massive super-hero vibes that sent the baddies running.

“I’m fine.” Stiles lied, knowing his heart would skip and not caring. Not every single thought he had belonged out in the open, contrary to what people might assume. 

“You know you can talk to us. . . about what happened with Gerard,” Scott soothed, or well his voice was soothing. It did nothing to sooth Stiles. 

If only Scott knew. The fear randomly taking over his more basic instincts had nothing to do with his ass getting beat by a deceitfully fragile old man. It had everything to do with his nightmares. After the whole Nemeton ordeal, Deaton said himself that their hearts would be tainted. Stiles just hoped his brand of supernatural backlash wasn’t in the form of premonitions. The dream had felt so real, more real than any dream he’d ever had, it felt more palpable than being awake even. It didn’t bode well for Stiles who tended to be the Supernatural communities bitch. 

He must have been quiet too long. It was a gentle hand on the back of his neck that brought him out of thought, and with it came a rush of heat through his chest, not un-similar to the cold heat of a panic attack, but he didn’t feel scared, the exact opposite. Stiles had to stop himself from relaxing completely back into that hand. He laced his fingers together and rested them on his laps instead, willing himself not to fidget. He worried that if he moved, Derek would run. 

This was another weird discovery since the whole ordeal with the Alpha pack. All the werewolves were touching him a lot more. Particularly Derek. Even though Stiles vehemently denies it, Scott claims it’s a pack thing; scent marking. Whatever the hell that means. Now that Cora had bailed back to South America, which Stiles totally did not blame Girl-Derek for, the rest of the pack had kind of merged together naturally. With Isaac, Boyd, and Erica off doing who knows what -Stiles never listened when they told him their plans- the loft felt empty. Stiles was used to Lydia and Jackson going AWOL for long periods of time, but the rest of the teens never stayed away for long. It just added another thing to the list of numerous things putting Stiles on edge.

Having the rest of the werewolves around had at one point been unbearable but they’ve grown on him, like weirdly beautiful fungus. Having them sniff out literally every emotion crossing his conflicted brain was still super inconvenient though. 

The grip on his neck tightened, angling his head back and to the right slightly. Stiles didn’t resist, just relaxing minutely in response. 

“Derek.” Scott cautioned. Stiles felt him shift around on the other side of the couch and realized at that moment that his eyes were closed. The grip on his neck didn’t relent and part of Stiles was glad. He hadn’t been so casually touched in a long time, probably since just after his Mom died. The Sheriff wasn’t a super affectionate guy and besides him and Scott joking around, there wasn’t all that much touching between them either. Stiles just assumed Derek would be the least affectionate creature on the Earth but that obviously wasn’t the case.

The older man was always touching the rest of the pack too, in subtle ways like brushing a hand through Isaacs curly mop of hair or resting his hand on Boyd’s shoulder. Stiles was aware of Boyd and Erica’s relationship but that didn’t stop Erica from curling as close to Derek on the couch as he would allow her. Scott reasoned this new behavior away as ‘pack-bonding’ another werewolf term that Stiles was still trying to comprehend with his human mind. He was just waiting for some weird werewolf orgy to break out. Thanks, but no thanks. Wolves were tactile by nature though. Even Scott touched the rest of the werewolves a lot. Least of all Derek, mostly Isaac but if Stiles didn’t know better he’d think Isaac, Scott, and Allison were in some unconventional polygamous relationship. Isaac was obviously the most affectionate werewolf, even with Stiles. Though Stiles still remembers the shitty way Isaac treated him and holding a grudge is something he’s awesome at, it’s hard to reject Isaac’s puppy eyes outright. 

Now, Derek, Derek had a thing for Stiles’ neck. He didn’t touch him anywhere else really but when Derek passed by the teenager he’d rest his hand on the back of his neck for a second or two before moving on. This time was different though. Derek had never done it when Stiles was feeling panicked and he’d never done it for this long before. Stiles almost thought the older man was leaching his pain away somehow (does that work for emotional pain?) but he wasn’t sure.

The palm gripping the back of his neck slid slowly to cup around his throat instead, tilting his head even further back. Stiles opened his eyes, looking up into Derek’s face. Derek’s irises were consumed and glowing in that distinct alpha red. Stiles stared back unflinchingly, but the urge to look away was strong. He blinked and suddenly the red was gone from Derek’s eyes and with the color, the hand from Stile’s throat retreated too. 

Derek stepped away from the back of the couch, Stiles’ eyes following him from the awkward angle his neck was still in. He watched Derek shoot Scott a sharp look with one expressive eyebrow raised before he headed silently to the large sliding door of the loft, slipping out and shutting the door behind him. 

Stiles paused for a moment, waiting to see if the werewolf would come back. “Did that actually happen or...?” He glanced at Scott, but his best friend too, was turned towards the door, head tilted like was listening intently. 

Allison who obviously felt the tension and remained silent for most the afternoon, finally looked at him and the sympathy in her expression made something in his stomach tighten up unpleasantly. That was a knowing look like Stiles was the only one out of the loop. After Derek bit Allison’s mom saving Scott, things had been hard between the werewolves and the Argents and not just in your normal hunter/hunted relationship. It took a long time, even after Derek snitched to her about the real reason he bit her mom, for Allison to come to term with her mother’s death. It was her mother’s choices that lead to her death and these days Allison was back to normal around the werewolves, save the random moments where even Stiles could sense the spike of anger surging through the tall girl. 

Now though, she was watching Stiles with this small smile on her face, barely showing off her dimples. Stiles couldn’t make heads or tails of most things these days, least of all Allison. A couple months ago he’d claim to have her pinned down as far as motives, but after all the switching of sides she’s done, part of Stiles has a hard time trusting her and not immediately assuming the worst whenever she seems a tad off.

Scott finally looked back at him then, and his eyes were sharp. His wonky jaw was even more pronounced now and Stiles almost snorted out loud at the picture he made. How was anyone ever intimidated by this guy? For real.

“I think Derek just feels bad, dude. After everything with Jennifer and her kidnapping your dad…” Scott trailed off, looking as though he was having a hard time finding words. “I think he feels responsible and he’s trying to treat you how he would an upset beta. Just because you’re human, doesn’t mean you're not Pack.”

“Yeah… I mean I kinda get that with the mass amounts of affectionate teenagers trying to puppy-pile me on the daily,” Stiles joked, forcing himself to relax back into his seat. Now that Derek had gone and taken whatever werewolf mojo with him, he felt his shoulders tensing by the second and the anxiety creeping back in at a trickle. 

“Stiles…”

“Seriously, Scott. I’m fine. It’s just nightmares.” 

Scott scooted closer and pressed his fingertips to the pulse at Stiles’ wrist. Stiles was internally worried because it didn’t have the same effect on him as Derek’s touch did. Stiles just hoped he wasn’t putting too much merit into Derek’s supposed calming powers because of his little crush. Stiles wasn’t joking with his dad outside of jungle that time, or well, he was but he was kind of serious. He could be gay, more likely bi, but the pull Lydia always seemed to have over him was flagging compared to the overwhelming attraction to Derek that had been growing. Anyone with eyes could see that Derek was hot, that wasn’t a question. The straightest of the straights could objectively admit that Derek was super attractive. Stiles just supposed he had a type. Eerily beautiful, emotionally unavailable individuals, who were attracted to legitimate psychos and not him. Apparently, it didn't matter what gender they were. 

“Everything’s fine, Stiles. The alpha pack is gone, the Darach is gone, Gerard is gone. You can relax. Nothing is going to magically appear out of thin air. The pack runs the perimeter around the town all the time. We’ll be the first to know if something’s up. So just…” Scott took a deep breath, removing his hand from Stiles’ wrist. “Just breathe, dude.” 

Stiles knew Scott meant well but there was a small part of him (read: huge) that couldn’t help but think he was wrong, that there was something else coming. Something different and worse, and headed his way specifically. The green eyes of his nightmare were there every time he so much as blinked and the fear of his dreams becoming a reality kept that anxiety in his chest thriving.

Stiles’ eyes traveled unwillingly to the loft door. He just hoped that whatever it was, he and the people he loved would get out undamaged.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> The warning mentioned early is the baddie (in a dream sequence) threatening Stiles with potential non-con and pressing his face against his crotch. Stiles wakes up before anything further can happen.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope you enjoyed it! comments are appreciated! :)
> 
> Yes, this chapter is short! I'm still trying to get a feel for the plot and where the characters are at emotionally, look forward to longer chapters after this though.


End file.
